


The Morning After

by JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, NHL!Jack, bit o' fluff, skating coach!bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14559006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle/pseuds/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle
Summary: Bitty wakes up alone in Jack's apartment after a one-night stand -- that turns out not to be.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a Tumblr ficlet that grew because I have no self control. Not beta'd, so let me know if I need to fix anything.

Bitty rubbed his eyes and felt around for his phone.

The night table wasn’t where he expected to be. Instead, there was another pillow. Another pillow with a silky smooth pillow case that matched the sheets that Bitty was lying on.

Definitely not home then.

Jack.

That was real.

Bitty lifted the sheet and looked down at himself. Yep, naked. In a bed made with dove grey sheets that had a thread count Bitty couldn’t even imagine. It was real.

From somewhere outside the room, he heard knocking. That must have been what woke him at, good lord, what time was it? And if this was real, where was Jack?

“Hello?” a voice called from somewhere near where the knocking was. “Anybody home?”

A female voice. Holy crap, did Jack have a girlfriend? Because that – yes, that sounded like a door closing. So whoever it was was in the apartment. With him. And, apparently, not Jack, because no one had answered the voice.

Now that his eyes were actually open, Bitty found his phone on the night table on the other side of the bed.

9:15. Not early, but not too late. And lord, Jack had marvelously effective blinds as well as lovely soft sheets. Bitty really was in the wrong line of work. He could get used to this.

He heard someone moving around down the hall, but not, apparently heading to the bedroom, at least not yet. That would give him time to at least get his underwear on. If he could find them.

He found his boxer briefs – thank God he’d worn the nice ones last night – kicked under the foot of the bed. His jeans and shirt were on the floor near the dresser, like someone had tossed them in the general direction of the chair that stood a couple of feet away.

That someone might have been him. No, on further consideration, that someone had been him.

What had gotten into him, a one-night stand with Jack Zimmermann, of all people? Who was he and what was his life?

It wasn’t like Bitty had never met Jack. Sure, Jack was a famous professional athlete, but Providence wasn’t that big of a big city, and there were a limited number of ice rinks. Bitty had encountered Jack from time to time when his figure skating students’ lessons had bumped up against Jack Zimmermann’s hockey program for kids, and while he appreciated the view, he honestly had not been impressed with the personality. Jack was was brusque to the point of rudeness, whether he was insisting that Bitty’s skaters get off the ice a full 10 minutes before the hour to give the Zamboni time, or he was insisting on letting his tiny skaters stay out until their game was over.

That actually wasn’t so bad. It was tough to beat the cute factor of 6-year-olds in full hockey pads.

And it wasn’t like Jack was even there most of the time. He only showed up at the beginning and end of the season, and a few times in between, otherwise leaving it to teenage and college-student coaches who were much more agreeable … especially after Bitty shared some treats.

Once Bitty was decent – although how decent could he really be if he slept with a man that up until yesterday he would have said he didn’t even like – he considered his options. He could just stay here and hope she – whoever she was – would just go away.

But she had a key to Jack’s apartment, which spoke to some kind of intimate relationship (which Jack had definitely not mentioned), and he didn’t want her to come into the bedroom to see him lurking next to the sex-mussed bed.

He could just walk out there and brazen it out. It wasn’t like _he_ was cheating on anyone. But that could get very unpleasant, very fast. When Aunt Claudia found out about Uncle George … well, it wasn’t Uncle George she took it out on. It was “that floozy Suzette,” which was the only way Aunt Claudia ever referred to her.

But. As Bitty recalled the night before, he remembered coming down a hall (being carried down a hall) with at least three other doors. Surely one of them was another bedroom? Perhaps Bitty could come out of the hall, say he was a friend that Jack had invited to spend the night. He’d have to make the bed first. There was nothing he could do about the sheets, but he’d be well on his way before the woman discovered that they needed a change.

Bitty pulled up the top sheet and the duvet, whispering an apology to his mama for doing such a half-assed job of making the bed, opened the door as quietly as he could, and tiptoed past the next door before calling out, “Hello?”

A head popped into the hallway entrance, followed by the rest of the woman, who wasn’t anything like what Bitty imagined Jack Zimmermann’s girlfriend would be. She was petite, with dark hair gathered into a bun, wearing conservatively cut black slacks, a white collared shirt and fuschia blazer. With a nametag that read “Sasha.”

“Are you Bitty?” she asked.

Bitty looked down at himself. Nope, no nametag.

“Uh, yes?” he said.

“Jack left a note for you,” she said. “When you talk to him, could you maybe let him know he should tell us if there will be someone here? I knocked, but maybe you didn’t hear me?”

“Um, I guess,” Bitty said, taking in the scene in the kitchen. There were several empty grocery bags on the floor, and one half-full on the table.

“You’re … delivering groceries?”

“I’m one of the concierges for the building,” Sasha said. “When groceries are delivered and the resident isn’t going to be home for a while, and the resident requests it, we’ll put them away so nothing spoils. Jack said he’ll be back Thursday?”

“Um, I guess,” Bitty said, feeling more awkward by the second.

For a while last night, he and Jack had really clicked. They’d been at the same fundraiser, trying to drum up support for a second sheet of ice at the community rink – something they could both get behind – and Bitty learned Jack could be surprisingly eloquent when he talked about something he cared about. Then when Bitty’s Uber dropped off the map two minutes before it was supposed to arrive, Jack offered him a ride. That turned into coffee (herbal tea for Jack, Bitty recalled) and more blatant staring and flirting than Bitty had experienced since he’d been in college.

When Jack invited him over, the implication had been clear, and Bitty went willingly. He hadn’t even been drinking. Jack said he never did this kind of thing … but didn’t everybody say that? Jack said he’d noticed Bitty a year ago, but was too shy to say anything … like that would excuse the rudeness. (It kind of had, last night. But Jack and his stupid handsome face and his stupid puppy dog eyes had been right there. Now he wasn’t, and Bitty wasn’t so sure anymore.)

Bitty had maybe been hoping this wouldn’t be a one-time thing (because God, was it worth repeating) but then he woke up alone to a strange woman coming into the apartment. Sasha. Who said there was a note.

“I’m sorry, I’m worthless without coffee,” Bitty said. “You said there was a note?”

“There,” Sasha said, nodding toward a sheet of paper folded on the counter. “And I just put coffee away in that cabinet, if you want to make some.”

“You don’t mind?” Bitty asked.

“It’s not my apartment,” Sasha said. “And all indications are Jack wanted you here.”

She was looking at the side of Bitty’s neck. Oh God. Maybe he could catch a reflection in the door of microwave or something.

Bitty found a bag of whole-bean coffee – “Grinder’s in the cabinet over the coffee maker,” Sasha helpfully said – and got a pot brewing. Then he picked up the note – folded over with his name on the front.

_Sorry I had to leave so early, it said. I didn’t want to wake you. We have a game in Tampa tomorrow and we’re travelling today. Help yourself to anything you need before you go. Can we get together when I get back? I don’t have your number so text me or call me._

He signed it “Jack” and included his phone number.

Bitty turned to the grocery bags and the contents of the fridge.

There were plenty of eggs, and peppers and spinach. Fruit. Frozen broccoli and lots of frozen chicken breasts. Some fish, too. Low-sodium canned beans. Whole-grain bread. Brown rice.

“So, Sasha, do you often run into overnight guests here?”

“You mean here in the building, or here in Jack’s apartment?” Sasha said. “Because I’m not paid to gossip about the residents.”

“Of course not,” Bitty said, blushing. Of course he shouldn’t be asking. But he’d be a lot more comfortable texting Jack if he knew Jack was telling the truth when he said this wasn’t a regular thing.

“But I guess it’s not gossip if there’s nothing to tell,” Sasha said, with a wink. “The last person who stayed over with Jack was his mother.”

Bitty suddenly felt more confident. “If you have a few minutes, I’ll make you breakfast,” he said.

“I really can’t,” Sasha said. “I left Jorge alone at the desk.”

“Tell you what, then,” Bitty said. “I’ll drop off some muffins on the way out.”

Twenty minutes later, Bitty arranged his plate with an omelet and toast on the counter, the bowl of whole-grain blueberry muffins visible in the frame on his phone.

_If you’re looking for the muffin bowl when you get home, check the concierge desk,_ Bitty texted Jack _. Sasha brought your groceries up. I used some to make myself breakfast.Next time you can have some too._


	2. Part II

Jack still had a smile on his face when he slipped his phone back in his pocket.

“Good news?” Tater asked.

“Very,” Jack said.

“You want to share?” Tater asked. “You find new history book? You get money for new rink?”

“Not exactly,” Jack said.

How could he explain that he had just been invited to breakfast – apparently in his own apartment – at some undetermined date after they returned from their current two-day roadie? Instead he said, “I just got a text from a friend.”

“A friend?” Tater asked. “Or a _friend_?”

“A friend,” Jack said firmly, because even though he hoped Bitty turned out to be more, it was way too early to start talking about that. To even think about starting to talk about that. “I was hoping he would get in touch, but I wasn’t sure he had my number. He’s working on the campaign for the ice rink, too.”

“Okay,” Tater said, but he sounded suspicious. “Maybe he has a friend who is a she? Because that’s a smile I never see on you.”

“Nope, just him saying we can have breakfast when we get back,” Jack said, hoping it sounded like a breakfast meeting, to discuss important community ice rink campaign business.

“Okay,” Tater said.

Then Tater’s face lit up.

“You want help?” he said. “Bring me to breakfast. I agree Providence needs more ice rinks. Then more kids play hockey. That’s good, yes?”

“We’ll see,” Jack said, unsure about whether to tell Tater that his friend – his _friend_ – wasn’t even a hockey player. He was a figure skater.

When Jack was finally alone in his room, he pulled out his phone and read the text from Bitty again.

_If you’re looking for the muffin bowl when you get home, check the concierge desk. Sasha brought your groceries up. I used some to make myself breakfast. Next time you can have some too._

First, he carefully saved Bitty’s number, under “Eric,” to look less incriminating. Then he composed a text to send back.

_Sorry about the grocery delivery. I forgot it was this morning. But I’m glad you had something to eat. That looks good. I’d love to join you whenever you can. We get back early Thursday morning, and that’s an off day, so I’m free in the evening, if you are. Don’t worry about the bowl – I probably wouldn’t have noticed it was gone._

Actually, if Jack knew Sasha, it probably wouldn’t be gone by the time he got back. Chances were, it would be sitting on his counter, clean, probably with a note explaining the circumstances and thanking him for the muffins. Even if he had nothing to do with them.

Sasha, honestly, was sometimes a little intimidating, but Jack admired her efficiency, and he knew she wouldn’t have tried to make Bitty uncomfortable. It still made him cringe – if he had been caught in someone else’s bed by the building staff, he’d still be hiding in the bathroom. But Bitty, well, Bitty didn’t seem like he was afraid of anyone.

Jack remembered the first time he’d seen Bitty. He’d been on the ice with one of his students, demonstrating a spin. Bitty would do it, his body perfectly balanced, and then let the kid – a boy, Jack thought – try, and then Bitty would show him again, drawing attention to the placement of his foot, to the position of his free leg, to the set of his arm. It went that way for three or four repetitions, and then Bitty looked up and caught Jack staring.

Jack had been embarrassed, but instead of apologizing, or complimenting Bitty on his technique, he’d lashed out, yelling about the time it would take to resurface the ice.

It was true, of course. No matter how beautiful figure skaters were – and Jack wouldn’t argue against that – they left divots in the ice that took a couple of passes of the Zamboni to fill in. Besides, there were never any more than three or four figure skaters on the ice at once – fewer as they reached more elite levels – when you could throw 20 kids on the ice for hockey practice. So why shouldn’t the hockey teams have priority?

But Bitty hadn’t backed down, skating to the boards and telling Jack off for interrupting. “We have five more minutes out here,” he’d said. “And your teams aren’t even ready yet. Why don’t you go tie some skates? Felix here needs to do one one more run-through before he gets off.”

That had set the tone for all their interactions for the next year.

Up until the season Bitty showed up, Jack had only made appearances at the kids’ league to open the season and to award the final trophies. Which he made sure every child got, snarky comments about participation trophies be damned. Those kids all made an effort to get out there and try something new, and Jack thought they should be rewarded.

Once Bitty was on the scene, Jack tried to come whenever his own schedule permitted. Bitty wasn’t there every time, but it seemed like his students had the ice either just before or just after Jack’s minor mites more often than not. Jack wanted to be annoyed at Bitty for insisting on the full measure of his ice time – he was annoyed, truth be told, when he had 40 kids ready to play a game and Bitty was running one skater through his or her moves for the tenth time.

But he also was more than a little intrigued, and attracted. Bitty was a sight to behold when he skated, and, frankly, adorable off the ice. When he stood up to Jack – which was every time Jack spoke to him, it seemed like – he would come right to the boards, even though he had to look up to see Jack’s face. His cheeks would flush pink and his jaw would have a determined set to it.

Despite that, Jack had never seen him in any kind of conflict with anyone else at the rink; even the young hockey coaches Jack’s foundation hired for the league seemed to love him. That was a clear advantage when it came to winning support for a second sheet of ice at the rink, as the event the night before showed.

A new sheet of ice wouldn’t solve all the problems – there wasn’t enough ice in the world to do that – but having twice the ice would allow both the hockey and figure skating programs to grow, and Jack, with his celebrity, and Bitty, with his winning personality, were an effective tag team when they were making the case.

By the time the evening was over, Jack was feeling more friendly than he ever had towards Bitty, and he was having a harder time hiding his attraction, until they sat across from each other at the cafe and Jack realized that Bitty was attracted to him too.

Deciding to invite him home might have been the best decision Jack ever made. It also might have been the most reckless.

Jack knew that, and he knew that the very thought of bringing a man home – someone who knew exactly who he was, and why he wasn’t out, and hadn’t seemed to like him for the past year – would normally send him spiraling towards an anxiety attack. But when he and Bitty had really talked (okay, really flirted) at the coffee shop, he learned enough of Bitty’s history to know Bitty would never out him.

“I didn’t even tell my mama I was gay until I moved up here permanently,” Bitty told him. “It was bad enough being a gay boy in Georgia. No need for Coach and mama to be the parents of a gay boy in Georgia.”

When Jack looked confused, Bitty shrugged. “With me becoming a Yankee and all, which is what the neighbors think, no one does more than ask politely how I am, and all they have to do is confirm I’m still alive. The scandal of moving to New England is enough to drive anything else out of their minds.”

Sasha wouldn’t tell either. Jack was sure of that. She wouldn’t have told even if she wasn’t paid well to keep quiet about the residents.

He had just settled into a new book on Lewis and Clark when Bitty texted back.

_At least while you’re gone no one will yell at me to get off the ice. jk. I have a class Thursday evening but it ends at 8. I could bring you dinner, if you want._

Jack tried to remember the rest of their conversation. Bitty hadn’t said anything about still being in school. Did he teach group skating classes too?

_What kind of class?_ Jack texted.

_Cooking,_ Bitty texted back. _I do some cooking classes on the side._

_How do you end up teaching skating and cooking?_ Jack asked, honestly curious. Bitty had mentioned being in college; why didn’t he have a regular job?

_You get a degree in American studies,_ Bitty texted back. _Seriously, I don’t like doing the same thing all day. Anyway, I’ll plan something you can eat and make it along with my students, and then I can bring it over. Or we can do something fast at your place. I already know I need to bring some spices. Are you allergic to anything? Besides flavor, I mean?_

What was that supposed to mean?

_What does that mean?_ Jack texted.

_I’ve seen the inside of your cabinets, and what you order from the grocery store. I can help. I promise._

_If it gets you to come over, then fine,_ Jack typed. _But I can’t go far off my nutrition plan._

_Don’t worry your pretty head about it,_ Bitty responded. _I used to feed a whole hockey team when I was in college._

Did he mean he hung out with hockey players? Or just brought them treats so the wouldn’t be mad if he was on the ice? Jack was a little pleased that he knew that was how Bitty operated.

_How did you know the hockey team?_ Jack asked.

_Um, I was on it?_ Bitty texted. _Captain my senior year and everything._

Shit. Was Bitty mad now? It wasn’t Jack’s fault that Bitty didn’t look like a hockey player, for all he was in great shape, with a compact, lithe body that Jack fully intended to ruminate on as soon as this conversation was over. The way his body and hair glowed gold against Jack’s gray sheets had made an image Jack would have loved to capture.

_Sorry,_ Jack typed. _I didn’t know. How do you put the embarrassed face in a text?_

The answer came quickly.

_You should honestly be more embarrassed to ask that,_ Bitty texted. _I’ll tell you all about it Thursday? Or maybe Friday morning, over coffee._


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got way longer than the first two parts. It also alternates POV.

Bitty sung the praises of almond milk to his eight students in the community center cooking class. Today’s lesson was chicken pot pie. Bitty’s set-up had twice the amount of chicken, for added protein when he fed it to Jack later.

“The almond milk makes the sauce really creamy, with hardly any calories, at least compared to using cream,” he said. “So let’s start by browning our vegetables. The mushrooms are gonna take the longest, so let’s add those.”

He watched as his students -– two pairs of women and two male-female couples -– found their dishes of cremini mushrooms and added them to the hot pans. Then they added carrots and celery, seasonings and a little flour.

“Now, y’all can add other vegetables if you like,” Bitty said, as he stirred the contents of his own pan. “I know some people use potatoes, although I find that a bit heavy. We’re going with some pretty basic seasonings here too, so feel free to experiment. Now we add the almond milk, a little at a time, and scrape up the brown bits. Once it starts to thicken, you’re going to add the cooked chicken, the onions, the peas and some thyme. Or you could use tarragon.”

He added his ingredients, then said, “Now take those pie plates you got ready and pour the filling in. Once you’ve done that, go to the fridge and get the disk of pastry dough that has your name on it. We’re not doing anything fancy here -– just roll it in a circle big enough to drape over your pie. We’re going to use some egg wash to seal it to the edges of the pan like so.”

He watched the class do as he said, while he left his own filling in the Dutch oven.

“All right, everyone ready? Let’s pop those in the ovens for about 25 minutes, which should give us enough time to clean up, talk about variations, and answer any questions.”

When the scraps were cleared away, the prep dishes washed, and the shelf-stable supplies returned to the cooking classroom pantry, Bitty passed out sheets with the original recipe he used, plus ideas for different vegetables and seasonings.

“All right, any questions?”

Jean raised her hand.

“Why didn’t you finish your pie off?” she asked. “You usually finish all the steps so we know what it should look like.”

“This is a dish that you should eat right away, while it’s still hot,” Bitty said. “All of you can take your pies as soon as they come out, and they should be about ready to cut into when you walk into your kitchen if it takes you 15 or 20 minutes to get home. And I know all y’all have been taking what we make to have for dinner after classes, so I figured it would work out. I’ll take the filling I made and save it for when I have someone to share it with. The filling can keep in the fridge for about three days, or in the freezer for a couple of months. But you want to put the crust on just before it goes in the oven so it doesn’t get soggy.”

Jean’s sister Judy raised her hand.

“Yes, Judy?”

“So you don’t have anyone to eat with? That’s just sad. We could eat here with you if you want.”

“Aww, thanks,” Bitty said. “But I have things to do tonight. It’s just that I live alone. I was counting on making this for a friend later anyway. But you’re sweet to think of me.”

“A friend?” Jean asked. “What kind of a friend?”

“The kind I said I would make dinner for, because, in case you hadn’t noticed, I like to cook, and some people think I’m good at it,” Bitty said, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

This class had only two weeks left, and the students in it had gotten to know Bitty well enough to know he didn’t have a boyfriend. Jean and Judy in particular had taken an interest –- maybe because they were looking for boyfriends as well.

As soon as the students left, Bitty fastened the lid on his Dutch oven full of filling with a couple of bungee cords. He got his own pie dough from the cooler, along with his bag of salad ingredients and fruit. He’d left a loaf of bread in his car. Then he changed into a clean blue button down with a red bow tie.

He still wasn’t entirely sure what Jack thought of this … whatever it was. But for Bitty, it wasn’t a booty call. Friends with benefits … maybe that was the best way to think of it for now, even though he and Jack had hardly been friends until earlier this week. But Bitty wanted it to be a date, so he was going to dress like it.

Most first dates didn’t include an open invitation to breakfast. Even if Bitty had done the inviting … inviting himself to make breakfast in Jack’s apartment. His mama, he thought, would not be pleased.

But cooking was what he could do to impress. It wasn’t like he had the kind of money it would take to wine and dine a professional athlete. Paying for dinner at a five-star restaurant? Not gonna happen, not unless he saved up for weeks.

Satisfied that he was as ready as he would ever be, Bitty texted Jack.

_Heading your way. I’ll be there in about 20._

The return text came before he got to his car.

_Looking forward to it. Anything I can get ready for you?_

Bitty texted back, _Nope. I think I have everything. Just make sure the counters and oven are clear._

********************************************

Jack glanced around the kitchen after he got Bitty’s text. The counters were clean, and Jack knew the oven was empty. He’d left it that way after he heated up some frozen chicken tenders for lunch.

Jack went back into the bedroom to look in the mirror again. He hoped he looked okay. He would have loved to ask Tater, or even Marty, what to wear to host a date in his home. He didn’t feel like athletic pants and a T-shirt –- what he usually wore around the house -– would be enough, but clearly a suit would be equally inappropriate. He didn’t have a whole lot in between, but he could cobble together something with dress pants from a suit and a button-down, or go less formal with a pair of the tailored jeans Tater insisted he buy and maybe a polo shirt. But that felt too casual.

He decided to split the difference, wearing the jeans with a dark T-shirt and a pale grey button-down, left unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. His mother said the color brought out his eyes.

Then he glanced at the bed, made with the soft gray sheets he liked. The ones his mother bought him. In the color she said brought out his eyes. Oh. Well, he wasn’t going to think about that. And if Bitty noticed that his shirt matched his sheets –- at least he’d be in a position to notice the sheets. Jack could take a little chirping if it meant Bitty was in his bed.

Not that Jack would be angry if Bitty didn’t stay. Jack wanted him to, very much, but he had to make sure Bitty didn’t feel pressured to sleep with him. He thought they were on the same page -– they had been the time before –- but Bitty was allowed to change his mind. _Crisse_ , how did people do this? This was why Jack’s sexual encounters for the last few years had been few and far between, and brief, no-strings hookups at that. It had been ages since he tried to do this with someone he wanted to keep seeing.

He hoped Bitty knew what he was doing.

At least Bitty seemed to know what he was doing with food. He hadn’t told Jack what he would make for dinner, but he had asked for the general outlines of Jack’s nutrition plan and said he could make something that would fit.

Jack’s phone buzzed and he picked it up. It was the doorman announcing Bitty’s arrival.

“Send him up,” Jack said, and went to open the door to the apartment.

When Bitty stepped off the elevator, Jack’s first thought was that he was glad he’d gone for button-down instead of just a polo shirt, since Bitty had a tie (a bow tie!) on. His next thought was to dart forward to try to relieve Bitty of some of what he was carrying: tote bags in each hand, with a messenger bag slung over his back.

“It’s alright,” Bitty said, making his way towards Jack’s open door. “I’m balanced this way.”

Bitty went straight to the kitchen and put the tote bags on the counter before pulling the strap of the messenger bag over his head.

“Should I put this in the bedroom?” he asked.

********************************************

Bitty wondered if he had been too forward as soon as the words left his mouth. What if this was just dinner? Sure, they’d talked (flirted) about breakfast, but maybe Jack didn’t mean it. Jack had a game tomorrow night. Maybe he didn’t want Bitty to stay. Bitty could live with that, even if it wasn’t his preference.

The relieved smile that broke across Jack’s face reassured Bitty, and when Jack reached for the bag and said, “I’ll take it. I’ll be right back to help,” Bitty couldn’t help returning the grin.

Bitty watched him head down the hall then turned back to the kitchen, setting the oven to preheat and pulling the food and his dishes from the bags.

The way those jeans hugged Jack’s backside … It was shaping up to be a very good night.

When Jack came back, Bitty handed him the pie plate and said, “I know you have cooking spray around here somewhere.”

He scattered flour over the countertop and unwrapped his disk of pastry dough. He floured the rolling pin and started rolling the dough out, applying even pressure, moving from the center to the edges, occasionally loosening the crust when it started to stick to the surface.

“Pour the filling in the pie pan,” Bitty instructed Jack, “and put the Dutch oven in the sink. Then can you get me an egg from the fridge?”

Bitty watched Jack as he moved around the kitchen. He looked comfortable, Bitty thought, like he could feed himself competently, even if he didn’t seem to know how to make his meals more flavorful.

Bitty draped the crust over the top of the pie plate and brushed on the egg wash before sliding the pan into the oven.

As soon as the door closed, Bitty moved to clean the flour off the counter.

“I can do that,” Jack said, suddenly behind Bitty. “It seems like you’re doing all the work.”

“I did say I’d make you dinner,” Bitty said, turning to face Jack.

“I want to help,” Jack said.

“Fine,” Bitty said, patting Jack lightly on the chest. Lord, that chest. It was huge, and hard –- a testament to Jack’s workout regimen. “I’ll put the salad together while you wash the prep dishes. Less to clean after dinner, then.”

Bitty noticed the way Jack’s cheeks flushed at that. Bitty was looking forward to after dinner, too.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, until Bitty asked Jack where he wanted to eat.

“We could set the table,” he said. “Of just eat in front of the TV.”

“Let’s eat at the table,” Jack said. “Like a real date.”

********************************************

Of course it was like a real date, Jack chided himself, because of the simple fact that it was a real date.

Bitty didn’t chirp him about that, just nodding and saying, “That will be nice. Where are the plates?”

“I’ll set the table,” Jack said.

As soon as they sat down, Bitty said, “I think I promised to tell you all about my brief hockey career.”

“Not that brief,” Jack said. “You went to the Frozen Four when you were a senior.”

“You looked me up?”

“After you said you played in college,” Jack said. “I knew you went to Samwell, and I remembered watching one of those games. My mother went there, so when Marty had your game on one night when we were on a roadie, I watched. I went back and found it again. You were really fast.”

“Still am pretty fast, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty said.

“Your goalie – Chow – he’s in Seattle now?”

“As their backup,” Bitty said. “He was already under contract then.”

“Anyone else go pro? You had a couple of really good D-men,” Jack said.

“One of them is in the AHL,” Bitty said. “But most people were there for the education, not the hockey scouts.”

Jack didn’t say that when he’d watched the game a couple of years ago, he’d noticed Bitty -– not by name, just as the small, speedy center –- but immediately discounted him because of his size. There wasn’t any real chance that number 15 would become an NHL teammate or competitor, so Jack had focused on other players. When he’d found video of the game today, he’d watched Bitty the whole time. Jack realized he’d been wrong –- Bitty could have played pro. He might not have the size most NHL players had, but he was that good.

“Did you ever think of going pro?” Jack asked.

“Me?” Bitty said. “Lord, no. I mean, I’m not that small -– I’m average-sized –- but all you professional hockey players are like two of me. And gay too? No one would want me.”

“You were out then?”

Bitty nodded. “That’s one of the main reasons I picked Samwell. I had to get out of Georgia if it killed me. Even if the thought of being checked terrified me. Still does, honestly, so as much as I loved hockey. It was never a long-term plan.”

While Bitty was talking, Jack took a bite of his chicken pot pie. “This is delicious,” he said.

“Tell me about you,” Bitty said.

“Hockey was always my long-term plan,” Jack deadpanned.

“I believe you,” Bitty said. “Didn’t your dad play, too?”

“You could say that,” Jack said.

“Must have been a lot of pressure on you.”

Jack nodded. “It wasn’t always easy for me, even though a lot of people thought it should be,” he said. “And I’ve had anxiety since I was a teenager, too, so I had a lot of trouble around the time I was supposed to be drafted.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bitty said. “I didn’t really follow hockey at all until I was almost in college. But you ended up in the league anyway?”

“I got drafted the next year,” Jack said. “I’ve been in Providence ever since.”

********************************************

Bitty took a swallow of his water and considered how to ask his next question. He understood why Jack wasn’t out, understood it in his very bones. But Jack had flirted with him in the coffee shop, wasn’t upset that his building concierge found Eric in his apartment, invited him to come back the first day he was home.

“I don’t want to kill the mood,” he said, laying his hand next to Jack’s on the table. “Or put any pressure on you, so there’s no wrong answer here. But does anyone know that you’re … not straight?”

“Bisexual,” Jack filled in. “And a few people know. My parents, my therapist –- you know, the people you can’t really lie to.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Bitty said. “I didn’t come out to my parents until after I left Georgia.”

“Anyway, besides them, the Falconers’ AGM knows,” Jack continued. “And my ex. But that was from back before I came into the league.”

“Only one ex?”

“Only one relationship with a guy,” Jack said. “I’ve had a few one-night things over the years, but, well, they usually didn’t know who I was.”

Jack looked embarrassed, and that hadn’t been Bitty’s intent at all.

“At least you didn’t get your first hand job in a frat house bathroom with 100 people drinking and dancing about 6 feet away,” Bitty said, hoping that would alleviate Jack’s self-consciousness.

“I did skip that college life,” Jack said. 

“It probably wasn’t everything you’re imagining,” Bitty said. “At least, not for me. Believe me, that wasn’t a frequent occurrence. I’ve only had one real boyfriend. I moved down here to be with him after I graduated, but it didn’t last.”

Bitty shrugged. “I always hoped there was something better coming along.”

“You probably have lots of guys after you, though.”

“And it’s amazing how few of them I want to spend time with,” Bitty said. ”I guess I’m just picky.”

********************************************

“I guess I’m lucky then,” Jack said, moving his hand over Bitty’s. Here they were, holding hands. Should it be this much of a thrill?.

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” Bitty said. “Well, maybe the luck of the gene pool. You’re one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen.”

Bitty took a moment to take another bite, and said, “And it turns out you’re secretly pretty wonderful after all. I mean, I’ve known what you look like for more ‘n a year, but I wouldn’t have gone home with you if I didn’t like you.”

Jack was aware of the compliment and aware he should say something nice about Bitty, or at least say thank you, but he was fixated on the way Bitty’s cheeks pinked when he got flustered. It had started when he said Jack was beautiful and only deepened when Bitty acknowledged that liked him.

“I like you too,” Jack finally said, giving Bitty’s hand a squeeze before he released it. “And if you like me, I _am_ lucky.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, then Bitty said, “Can I ask what this is that we’re doing? If you can’t be out? Because I really can’t go back in the closet. Even if I wanted to, pretty much everyone who knows me here in Providence knows I’m gay.”

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t ask that,” Jack said. “And I don’t think it would be fair to ask you not to see anyone else -–”

“It’s not like I’ve been seeing anyone else,” Bitty said. “Is that what we’re doing? Seeing each other? Dating? Or do you see this as a more casual thing?”

“I don’t think I know how to do casual,” Jack said. “I mean, I’ve had a couple of casual relationships with women, but I didn’t really care about them. The relationships, I mean. Not the women. They were great, and they deserved to move on and find someone who would fall in love with them.”

“What about the guy, the one you called your ex?”

“I thought it was just physical. We were kids –- literally teenagers –- and I didn’t think it meant anything until it ended,” Jack said. “He was … he was really hurt, for a long time. I didn’t feel anything for a while – wait, have you Googled me?”

“Um, no?” Bitty said. “Should I have?”

“It might make it easier,” Jack said. “When I was 18, I overdosed on anxiety meds, helped along by a beer or six. I missed the draft that year, and even though I survived, I thought my life was over. That was also when things ended with my ex.”

“Wow,” Bitty said. “It must have been so tough to come back and play. You’re incredibly brave, you know that?”

“Not really,” Jack said. “I just didn’t have a plan B, so I had to make plan A work. I gave it 110 percent and I was able to persuade the Falcs to take a chance on me. And what about you? You’re brave too. You said you had to get out of Georgia, so you did, even if it meant playing a sport that scared you.”

“Not the whole sport,” Bitty said. “Just checking.”

“That’s a big part of it, bud.”

“No kidding,” Bitty said. “Two of my former captains said I was like a fainting goat. They kept saying they wanted to make a play out of me collapsing.”

Jack frowned.

“That wasn’t right,” he said. “They should have helped you.”

“They did, in their way,” Bitty said. “They helped get me used to the idea that I could get hit, and it wouldn’t hurt, much, or of it did, it wouldn’t do real damage, probably. And it would have been worse if they didn’t chirp me for it – it would have been like this big hairy thing we couldn’t talk about, y’know?”

“Maybe,” Jack said. “Did you get professional help too?”

“Yeah, the coaches made me go,” Bitty said. “It was weird -– I felt like I couldn’t tell my parents, but I ended up talking about them a lot. Between that and Ransom and Holster’s practice sessions, I learned to tolerate it, but I never liked it. Anyway, changing the subject back, I’m getting the impression you want us to date?”

“I want to,” Jack said. “But I can’t be your boyfriend in public, at least not yet.”

What a way to kill the mood. But Bitty deserved to know what he was getting into. What he might be getting into. If he wanted.

“But you can in private?” Bitty asked. “I mean, like you could tell your family at least?”

“My family. I could tell some of my teammates probably. They’re good guys and I trust them,” Jack said. “If you wanted to tell your family, any friends you really trust …”

“You know it’s harder to keep a secret the more people know,” Bitty said. “And I understand why you need to keep it quiet. I wouldn’t want opposing teams targeting you any more than they already do.”

Jack nodded. He’d thought the same thing. But Bitty was right –- if upwards of a dozen people knew he was dating Bitty, how long would it remain a secret?

“It wouldn’t have to be a secret forever,” Jack said.

********************************************

Bitty put down his fork and looked Jack. Did he know what he’d just said? This was their second real conversation, besides a few days of flirty texts and a few months of testy exchanges on the ice. And one really good night in the bedroom just down the hall.

“LIsten to you talking about forever,” Bitty said. “Tell you what -– let’s just try this for now, just us, and anyone you think should know. Everyone already knows I’m gay, so I’m not worried about it. If I think I need to tell someone, I’ll talk to you first.”

“It might not be as easy for you as you think if I get outed,” Jack said. “The press can be vultures, and they’ll be all over you because of me.”

“And my YouTube views will go through the roof,” Bitty said. “I won’t have 210 pounds of defenseman trying to put my head through the glass.”

“I’m serious,” Jack said.

“So am I,” Bitty said. “I know there are risks here for both of us, and I know the risks are bigger for you. But I do really like you, and I’m immensely attracted to you, and I’ve been waiting for days to see if those sheets of yours are as soft as I remember.”

The cheesiness of the line was worth it for the way Jack ducked his head and blushed.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to get so serious. Not good at casual, remember? If all you want is a bit of fun –“

Bitty shook his head. “I think I already said I’m up to give it a try, if you are.”

Bitty stood and picked up his plate.

“You cooked,” Jack said. “Let me do dishes?”

“Sure,” Bitty said. “If I can come keep you company.”

Jack winced.

“Speaking of company …”

********************************************

How had he not been able to wave Tater off for breakfast? He loved Tater, he really did, but sometimes his enthusiasm was overwhelming. And when he had mentioned breakfast with a friend to talk about the campaign to add a sheet of ice to the community rink, Tater was all over it. Whether because he didn’t really believe Jack had a friend the team didn’t already know or because he wanted to lend his (formidable) support to the campaign, Jack wasn’t sure.

“Speaking of company, Tater will be here for breakfast, too, if that’s okay,” Jack said, cringing at the thought it wouldn’t be okay. Who allowed a (loud, obnoxious) teammate to crash a date?

“Tater?” Bitty said.

“Mashkov. Alexei.”

“I’m aware,” Bitty said. “But does he … did you tell him ..”

“He saw me texting and asked about it, and I said I was arranging breakfast with a friend to work on the rink campaign,” Jack said. “He kind of invited himself.”

“To your apartment?”

Jack nodded. “I know. I can call him and tell him it’s off. But he was so excited to meet my figure-skater friend. Apparently his mother was a figure-skating star in Russia.”

“What time is he coming?” Bitty asked.

“8:30?” Jack said, opening the dishwasher and rinsing the plates. “I suppose I could change the time.”

“What time do you usually get up on game days?” Bitty asked, packing the rolling pin and Dutch oven back in his tote bag.

“Not too early. About 7,” Jack said, thinking that sounded better than 6:55, which was when he always got up on game days. “I usually go for a light run, but I don’t have to.”

“Well, if you don’t sneak out before I’m up, maybe we can find another way to get you some exercise, and still be presentable by the time Alexei Mashkov gets here,” Bitty said. “Lord, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Jack closed the dishwasher and turned it on before moving in front of Bitty, boxing him in against the counter.

“Are you telling me you have a thing for Mashkov?” Jack said.

Bitty looked up at him, eyes huge, bottom lip caught in his teeth, and said, “Maybe. If you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds.”

“Won’t take that long,” Jack said.

********************************************

Bitty let his body press into Jack’s when Jack leaned down to kiss him. He felt himself sigh into the kiss, twining his arms around Jack’s neck to help him reach Jack’s mouth.

Jack took his time kissing Bitty, offering a kiss that was more a promise than anything. When Bitty opened his mouth to Jack, Jack didn’t plunge in. Instead, his tongue flicked just at the inside of Bitty’s lips and the tip of his tongue, drawing Bitty’s tongue to chase his into Jack’s mouth.

When they broke apart, Jack breathed into Bitty’s hair and murmured, “You still thinking about Tater?”

“Who?” Bitty asked, and giggled. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“I do now,” Jack said. It was almost a growl, and then he reached down to cup Bitty’s bottom through his slacks and pulling him even closer. Bitty loved the feel of Jack, the way he was big enough to surround Bitty, the solidity of him, the power that was contained in his muscled and the gentleness of his touch. The hardness of his erection pressing into Bitty’s belly was pretty impressive, too.

“Jack,” Bitty gasped. “Can we go to the bedroom?”

In response, Jack lifted him again.

Bitty laughed. “You don’t have to carry me every time.”

“Can’t have you getting lost on the way,” Jack said.

He dropped Bitty gently on the bed, then crawled next to him and brought his hand to Bitty’s bow tie.

“Can I take this off?” he said. “When you walked in with that on, I thought you were wrapped up like a present.”

Bitty tilted his head back to give Jack more room, then said, “And I thought you dressed to show off your arms and your ass. It worked.”

“And my eyes,” Jack said, working on the buttons of Bitty’s shirt. “Maman says this color brings out my eyes.”

Bitty used his fingers to tilt Jack’s chin up. “Mmm. You have beautiful eyes.”

This man. This man who had a body Sports Illustrated would love, who picked out a shirt his mother liked to impress Bitty. Bitty, of all people!

It was way too soon and would probably be way too messy, but Bitty was in love, at least a little bit.

Bitty kissed Jack and watched those gorgeous eyes fall closed.

********************************************

Jack marveled at the difference between kissing Bitty and being kissed by Bitty. They were both wonderful, near magical in the way they focused Jack’s mind on the man in front of him, and his body, and the way Jack’s body reacted to his body.

Kissing Bitty … it felt like Jack was communicating intent; intent to care for Bitty, to make him feel good (because Bitty felt so good to Jack); to learn Bitty – all the dips and curves and tastes of him, the form and the motion and the chemical makeup of him – so he could keep that knowledge within him. To cherish him.

 _Crisse_ , it was definitely far too early for that.

Kissing Bitty was fun, and it was amazing when Jack could draw those sounds from Bitty’s throat. 

But being kissed by Bitty … it was being wanted, even after the awkward conversations at dinner, even after being an asshole about ice time. It was affection and appreciation and generosity. Bitty wanted to give this to Jack, this moment (these moments stretching out) of being cherished, of being treasured. Not for what he could do on the ice, not for what he could buy, but because Bitty somehow saw him – all of him. Jack knew Bitty appreciated his body – he could feel it – but he also listened to Jack, and understood that there was something behind the walls Jack built up to keep the world at bay.

When Bitty kissed him, Jack felt all that want and affection and care (and love? Maybe eventually?) in the press of Bittle’s lips, in the heat of his mouth and caress of his tongue.

Jack groaned and shifted them, pulling Bitty into his arms and lying with him on the bed.

The best, Jack thought, was this, when they were kissing each other, the give-and-take of pleasure upon pleasure. Jack’s hands roamed across Bitty’s back, under the loosened shirt, and over the swell of his ass, which was still lamentably clothed. He let his own head fall back as Bitty pulled down the neck of his T-shirt to kiss across his collarbone.

Bitty pulled back, panting a little, and Jack couldn’t help his grin at the way Bitty looked, hair all in disarray, lips a little swollen and red, eyes huge and warm.

“This would probably be easier,” Bitty said, “if we were wearing less clothes.”

**************************************

“Hello, hello, hello,” Tater boomed, as he pushed open the door Jack had left ajar when the doorman called to announce Tater was on his way up. “Smells so good in here. I was going to say we should meet at restaurant, but …”

“Yeah, Bitty cooked,” Jack said, setting the plates and bowl of muffins on the table. “He likes to do that.”

They rounded the corner to the kitchen, where Bitty was pouring an egg mixture over vegetables in a skillet.

“Bitty, this is Tater. Tater, Eric Bittle. He teaches figure skating and does some private coaching at the rink. He also cooks.”

“Bitty,” Tater said seriously, extending hand. “You know I am not like other hockey players, yes? I like figure skaters. My mother was a famous figure skater and she made me do both. You understand? I know you figure skaters need time on the ice too, so if Jack is be difficult, you come to me, yes?”

Bitty’s face was pink and his eyes danced as he said, “I never would have taken you for a figure skater, but it’s nice to have an ally. Don’t worry, though. I think Jack and I have an understanding.

“More ice is better for everyone, eh?” Jack said from behind Tater, wishing he could place himself at Bitty’s side without noticeably pushing past his teammate.

“You must get here early to make breakfast,” Tater was saying. “You didn’t have to.”

“After years of 4 a.m. Russian calisthenics with my coach, it was nothing,” Bitty said, neatly stepping around Tater to get to the cups in the cabinet next to Jack. “Coffee?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on ["Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justlookfrightened)!


End file.
